


Unbreakable

by WeeWinchesterBeastie



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bucky is a libidinous Steve addict, Bucky's POV, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve still likes it rough, and Steve really likes getting fucked, happy morning fluff, metal hand action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:58:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeWinchesterBeastie/pseuds/WeeWinchesterBeastie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky muses on the eternal mystery...why does Steve like it rough? And why is Bucky so happy to oblige...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbreakable

I think I’ve figured it out.

It mystified me for a while, why it could be the best feeling in the world. But as I lay here in bed, watching a naked Steve stumble sleepily about the room, reaching for his favorite pair of soft sweatpants, I feel this sheepish grin tug the side of my lips.

He pulls the pants on—navy with a white stripe running up the sides. They’re low on his hips, and I let my eyes roam over those perfect cuts that run over his sides and down, down…

I like to trail my tongue down that line and keep going till I hit paydirt.

“What?” he asks, his hair all sleep-mussed and golden in the morning light, and he looks so innocent and totally _oblivious_ to how obscenely gorgeous he is, how every inch of him is just a ridiculous fuckable playground, and it makes me want to grab his face and shove it down on my cock, let him face-fuck himself on my dick and make those slutty sounds that make me so goddamn hard.

But we did that last night, and right now he’s like a sleepy, awkward puppy, and I love watching that too—just watching Steve be Steve—so I just smile and shake my head.

“Nothin,” I say.

He smiles and leans down, a quick kiss. My lips are dry, and I’m sure I’ve got morning breath, but he sucks gently on my top lip for just a second, a pale encore of last night, and then he’s heading for the kitchen, knocking into the doorframe, still not quite awake.

I hear the high whine of the coffee grinder, and stretch out lazily in the sun-warmed sheets, letting last night roll through my head like an afterglow. I had Steve down on all fours on the hardwood, his knees spread wide so his ass was low and open, just the right height for me to kneel behind him, grab his hips and fuck him so hard he was biting his own arm to keep from making sounds that the neighbors might interpret as me killing him.

I fucking love it.

My metal hand left bloody scratches on his hip, but that’s already all but healed this morning, and I’ve learned that nothing turns Steve into a pretty, writhing cockslut faster than me making it hurt _just_ enough.

And I think I know why.

He used to be so small, like paper over bone, and I remember how it used to feel when he’d get a chill and I’d be trying to get him warm, or he’d have an asthma attack, and I’d hold him against me so carefully, afraid I was gonna lose him.

He didn’t really like it, would always be tensing up or pulling back, and sometimes in my darker moments I was afraid it was because he could tell how much I wanted from him (but would never say out loud).

But I mostly knew that he pulled back because he didn’t like feeling weak.

He always had to fight back, stand on his own, and I was always torn between loving the hell out of him for it and wanting to pitch him over my shoulder and just march him out of whatever stupid _I’m standing up for my principles_ fight he’d gotten himself into.

How could you _not_ love someone that stupid?

And the worst times were when he did stop fighting me, when he didn’t tense up or try to push me away. Because those were the times I knew he was in real danger—too sick to try and prove anything, just barely enough fight to stay alive.

But now…

I hear the gurgle of the coffee maker and Steve ambles into the bathroom across the hall. I can see his reflection in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, this ridiculous attention he brings to the task like he’s brushing his teeth for freedom, justice, and the American Way. _That’s right kids, brush and floss after every meal. Gum health is important!_

He leans over the sink to spit and the muscles in his back ripple—fuckin amazing.

“Nothing’s gonna get you now, pal,” I whisper. “Goddamn invincible.”

He straightens up and looks back at me in the mirror. “You say something Buck?” he calls.

“Nah,” I say as he turns around and leans back against the sink, his arms crossed over his chest. I push myself a little higher against the headboard in an attempt to get mobile, but the bed’s just so comfortable, so I turn the movement into a stretch and sink back down again, watching Steve the whole time, this nice warm feeling in my chest like I could float away on a cloud.

“You’re like a cat,” Steve says with a small smile, shaking his head. “A really _lazy_ cat.”

“Just can’t think of a good reason to get out of bed,” I say with a grin. “The view is so nice from here.”

Steve chuckles and ambles back across the hall. He crawls onto the bed, leaning on his forearms, and brings his lips to mine for a long, slow kiss. My hands reach up to glide over his cheekbones, not sickly sharp anymore but smooth and just the right curve to fit my lips over. But my lips are still busy with his lips, so I keep my hands moving up into his hair, threading slow through those golden-boy strands.

This feeling rises up in my chest, so large, like an awful trembling _wonder_ , and I curl my warm hand around the back of his neck and let my other hand wrap tight around his back. He makes this happy sound that makes my heart jump, and I turn us so we’re on our sides, legs tangled together through the sheet, and I just keep kissing him.

There’s _so much_ of him now. This beautiful, solid figure of a man, and I swear to god Steve Rogers is the only man on earth who could deserve it. Stupid punk is so goddamn _good_ and he tries so hard, and as I trail my hand down his neck and over his shoulder I realize that it’s like those scientists gave him a body to match his soul, to match the Steve that was on the _inside_.

The Steve I always knew was there.

And now when he marches out to confront the things he won’t abide, I don’t have to worry that some stupid jerk is going to leave him with bruises that won’t heal for weeks, cuts that’ll scar and never really fade. A bad winter isn’t going to leave him bedridden and me near-suicidal with the thought of watching him die right in front of me.

He’s unbreakable now.

He’s playing his hand over my ribs, just softly, and I hear this sound come out of my lips that catches me off guard—it’s quiet and needy, and I press my lips to his throat with a gasp and the sensation that I’m drowning and he’s air.

“Buck, what’s wrong?” he says, his voice soft. He tips my head up to look at him and I realize that there’s wet trails leaking down my cheeks.

“Nothing,” I say with a little smile, not knowing how to explain. _I’m crying ‘cause you’re mine and you’re beautiful and you’re unbreakable._

And to think it would all end up here.

“Buck,” he says, brushing his fingers along the line of my cheek. He’s bewildered and happy and his eyes are searching mine, trying to get a handle on what’s come over me.

“Shut up,” I say and trap his lips with mine, sucking hard enough to break a gasp from him. I love the sound because it’s okay. It’s all okay. Steve can take it—take anything. I kick the sheet off my legs, pushing him down by the shoulder so he’s flat on his back, and I kneel over him, his hips trapped between my knees and my hands clamped on his shoulders.

I go back to his neck, but this time I’m not drowning—I’m _hungry_.

I suck at his skin and scrape my teeth down his neck, getting hard, the feel of his stomach so nice against my cock, and I grind down just a bit and _fuck yeah_ , those All American abs are _very_ good for that. Very good for making me hard and aching and ready to fuck his tight little heroic hole.

I nip at his chest and a groan slips from his lips. That just spurs me on even worse, so I really take a mouthful, biting hard, and he hisses in surprise, jumping. I push him down hard enough to crack his skull against the headboard, and a louder groan comes out of him, dark and throaty. His eyes light up all filthy fuckable, like I’ve just flipped a switch. His upper lip curves—his _That all you got?_ expression.

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you good,” I say, the last word devolving into a throaty growl that I press into his neck, sucking harder at the spot I’ve already made bloom like fireworks or flowers on his pale skin. I want to leave marks all over him, cover him in purple sparks and mouth-red bite blossoms.

I grip his hair tight and brutal and stare down at him, and his lip curls again and he locks his hands on my wrists like he’s gonna break my hold, but I grind down against his cock, hard as a rock in those soft sweatpants of his, and his head arcs back with approval, his fingers turning pliant on my arms.

“ _Mmmmm,”_ he says, arching up against me like a good little slut.

I rake my hands free and scrape metal down his chest, and this quick, high breath shudders from him. I move back down his length until I’m at his knees and then I yank the sweatpants free and grab his right leg, folding it up tight so I can bruise the skin of his inner thigh with my mouth. I suck and bite, still holding his leg up sharp, keeping him vulnerable and deliciously exposed. I pause for a moment to dip my own metal finger into my mouth, getting it wet and sloppy with my tongue, and before he even sees it coming I sink it into his ass, sliding in so sweet and smooth on my spit and his fuckin silky hot hole.

“Fuck _Christ_ ,” Steve gasps.

The little slut always gets a dirty mouth when I’m doing it right.

I suck harder on that purple bloom I’m growing on his inner thigh, finger fucking him nice and slow the whole time.

“Tell me how much you like this,” I say, my breath hot against his thigh, that warm, deep scent of him better than anything.

“So good,” Steve whines, his breath coming hard, “so…so…”

This is my favorite part—the point where he stops playing games and just turns into a panting, quivering mess that can barely put two words together. I laugh softly and skip right to three fingers, which makes him swear and shudder on my hand.

“That’s a good little cockslut,” I say, licking a thick wet stripe up his dick. He cries out and bucks his hips again, his mouth slack and gasping, hair sweat-darkened and stuck to his forehead.

“ _Unnnnhhff,”_ he says.

“Yes,” I agree.

He’s rocking his hips with my rhythm, his eyes shut, face lit up with this expression like he’s somewhere else entirely, a space and time where nothing else exists in the universe but what I’m doing with his body right now.

I could pull out and fuck him hard right now, fuck him to an orgasm and blow when he blows, but I have a _much_ better idea.

I slow my fingers, just a steady crawl, _innnnn_ all the way, then _ouuuut_ , and he cries out as I suck the head of his cock between my lips. I smile and slick precum over my tongue, holding him firm at the base with my other hand while I crook my fingers inside him, once, twice. He looks down at me, his face foggy, eyes heavy-lidded slits of starry need. I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock and his eyes roll back, closing with a flutter, and I smile around him because I love seeing him just give into me like that.

I match the rhythm of my mouth to the slow pull of my fingers and then he starts moaning like a goddamn pornstar, his hips bucking slow and needy with my rhythm, one hand thrown back by his face, the other just lying at his side like he’s got no strength to move at all. I can tell he’s close and I pump his cock slow and smooth, my fist following my mouth, and when he says “ _Ohhh,”_ in that sharp, jagged voice I know he’s there and I let him go from my mouth and pump him through the orgasm, sliding my metal fingers from his ass as he shoots white ropes of cum all over his stomach.

He’s a mess of trembling muscles and erratic breath and when he finally opens his eyes it looks like he’s travelled back a long way to find me again.

“Fuck _me_ ,” he breathes unsteadily, totally spent, his legs slumping to the side with exhaustion. He reaches for me, his eyes hungry to have me closer, to return the favor.

I give him what I know is a truly evil grin.

“I intend to.”

His breath catches, his hand wavering in the space between us.

His eyes go wide as I reach down and smear my hand with the warm, sticky fluid that’s all over his stomach, and he watches me, hypnotized, while I slick up my cock with his cum. I stare at him for a long moment, watching his lip do this little twitch it does when he’s reached a whole new level of depraved arousal, and then I slow drive myself into his hole as he grabs frantically at the sheets like they can save him, teeth grit, muscles straining.

“ _Fuuuuuck,”_ I breathe, falling forward, my head pressed to his chest, just pulsing with the feeling of his hot, slick flesh around mine. His hands come up, clamping onto my upper arms, and I can feel that he’s on the edge of what he can take. I crawl a little further up his chest, giving my hips a good, deep swivel, and he swears, his fingers digging in sharp.

“I’m gonna fuck you till you scream,” I say quietly, my face resting against his, his breath loud and hot against me.

He nods just slightly.

I brace my hands on either side of him and start thrusting slow and deep, just taking my time, making sure he can really handle this. I’m so deep inside him that his legs are tucked up tight against me, his upper body curled up towards mine.

His fingers are latched tight onto me, trembling like that point of contact is the only thing keeping him conscious. He’s so hot and tight around my cock I could almost blow right now, but I’m nothing if not good at dragging things out.

“So fuckin good, baby,” I say against his cheek. A low breathless sound is all I get in response, and I change my angle slightly, digging my toes into the sheets behind me for better leverage. I give a sharp thrust and he cries out, his nails cutting sharp into my arm. I thrust again and he gives the same cry, but a little rougher, ragged around the edges. I can feel sweat trickling down my back and chest, and my hair’s all in my eyes and I just want to watch him writhe on my cock like the gorgeous piece of depraved ass that he is, so I push up, but he won’t release his grip on me.

I brush his cheek with my lips, my voice gentle. “Let go, baby.”

I can feel his legs trembling on either side of me, his whole body this quivering, sweating mess of _wonderful_ , and he looks up at me with those blue eyes, dazed and trusting, and he lets go, falling back against the bed.

My heart lurches, and I have to fight the urge to gather him close again and tell him how much I love him, how it makes my chest almost break in half to see him smashed out of his mind with the intensity of what we’re doing, to see him just let go of _everything_ and let me have all of him.

He doesn’t fight me anymore. He gives me everything _._

I press his knees back and guide his legs around my hips, and I can tell he’s got nothing left, no strength at all, so I reach behind with my metal arm and lock his ankles in place against me. I just hold him there for a moment, looking down at him, watching total surrender, and then I start moving in him, slow and even at first, then getting faster, my breath pounding in my ears as I start to lose control. His hands are fisted in the sheets and his mouth is open but there’s no sound, just his face turned on the pillow and his eyes closed, skin damp and glistening in the light.

“I wanna hear you,” I say, my voice ragged, giving my hips a little curl so I hit that perfect spot. He’s got no choice and the sound I love comes out broken and uncontrolled. It fires my chest and makes me fuck him harder.

“So fuckin good,” I tell him. “The things you do to me.”

His jaw is clenched and his fists white-knuckled in the sheets, and now I’m telling him how pretty he looks, how fuckin goddamn illegal he is, that jaw, those lips, the way no one will ever know how beautiful a little cockslut he is, just for me, just here when I find that place where he gives up completely to me, doesn’t fight to be strong, doesn’t have anything to prove.

Because what the hell does he need to prove anymore? Goddamn unbreakable now, baby.

“Buck,” he gasps, his eyes wide, “Fuck me!”

I almost say _What the hell does it look like I’m doing?_ but he’s got that look on his face, the one that always takes my breath away—like I’m fire that he needs to burn himself on, and now I have to get close to him again. I let his legs down and lean forward over him, thrusting hard and frantic, and he grabs my hair and grips me so tight, his blue eyes staring up at me, tears leaking from them.

The first time that happened it freaked me out—scared me that I’d really gone too far, hurt him for real. But he’d grabbed me and snarled that he was fine, and that if I didn’t finish fucking him properly he’d kick my ass when he could move his body again.

 _I love you I love you I love you_ , I think as I feel myself tipping over the edge, the orgasm rolling through me like a tidal wave, and I feel him clench and shudder around me, and he tips his head all the way back so the cords of his neck are strained tight, and his mouth opens but no sound comes out, and then we’re both just a mess of shaking, quivering, _totally_ spent flesh, and I don’t know who’s breathing harder, me or him. His fingers knead through my hair and he whimpers, and I force my body to work just enough to lift my head and kiss him.

“I think you killed me,” he sighs with a little shaky laugh.

 _You kill me_ , I think, feeling the sensation of my cock slowly slipping out of him. I press my face further into the crook of his neck and just breathe him in, my limbs so heavy against him.

“Are you okay?’ I ask, when my voice finally works again.

His fingers scrape over my scalp gently, and he turns us so we’re both on our sides and I’m looking up at him.

“Yeah, Buck,” he says, his lips curving. “Yeah.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “You make me so happy.”

I hold him tight with this feeling twisting my chest like I might die if someone took this away from me. This is all I ever want.

“You make me happy, too,” I whisper.

“Good,” Steve says, “because you are _soooo_ getting the coffee now.”

I start cracking up against him, slightly concerned that I might not be equal to the task, but I guess I fucking owe him after what I just did to his ass.

I struggle up from the bed and nearly buckle to the floor, and Steve lies there with a Cheshire cat smirk on his face.

“Two sugars in mine, houseboy,” he says lazily, slipping his hand behind his head.

I lean against the doorframe and look back at him, my legs shaking, my chest burning with love.

Yeah, this is the best feeling in the world.

“You got it, pal.” 


End file.
